


vorfreude

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (sort of), 5+1 Things, Assumed Relationship, Assumptions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Armaggedon't, Twitter Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: Five times people were presumptuous about Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship status and one time that they both cleared the issue with each other.Secret Santa forBrknDeathAngel♥
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	vorfreude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@BrknDeathAngel on Twitter](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40BrknDeathAngel+on+Twitter).



> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by the BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
> 

>   * The author does not take any material profit by writing this fanfiction.
> 
>   * This is a part of Twitter Secret Santa organized by [Artistic_Omens](https://twitter.com/Artistic_Omens/) and I gift this for [BrknDeathAngel](https://twitter.com/BrknDeathAngel?p=) ♥ hope you like it, Merry Christmas 🎄🎅
> 


**"Vorfreude"**

\- (noun) An UNTRANSLATABLE German word, Vorfreude is defined as the intense euphoric sensation you experience from thinking about future plans and daydreams. This beautiful feeling is a natural reaction manifests the human mind from the expectations of future pleasures and joyful anticipations, such as planning a trip, going on a date, and many of fulfilling, life-changing events.

* * *

**i.**

Anathema was the first to say it.

Of course, Aziraphale had known how they looked this time. He just never thought about the possibility that someone would _ask_. Six thousand years was not a short time. And during that period, Aziraphale had learned to not draw conclusions on what human might say. Everyone thinks that human actions are always influenced by a demon and/or an angel, but the reality is human themselves decide what they want to do.

Of course, Anathema was not the first who had thought Aziraphale and Crowley were lovers. But she was the first person who got impression after years and years Aziraphale had not heard about such thing.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Anathema gracefully put her teacup. "You and Crowley, how long have you been married?"

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks warmed. "Oh, we aren't like that."

"Oh?" The witch blinked and then, she gestured nervously. "I'm _so_ , so sorry, you just look very, you know," Aziraphale smiled at her, did not know nor understand. "I just kinda presumed."

"We're good friends." Aziraphale chimed in. "It might be hard to imagine an angel and a demon to be friends, but we do. We are."

"How long have you been friends?"

"Six thousand years, more or less. I guarded the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden and Crowley was the demon who had persuaded Adam and Eve to eat the forbidden fruit."

Anathema gasped. "HOLD ON!" She looked so scandalised. "You— _oh my gosh_ , are you just telling me that you two were _those legends_ in every book about angels and demons? _The_ _A_ _ngel_ and _T_ _he_ _D_ _emon_?"

"We realised that those legends were heavily exaggerating, Miss Anathema," said Aziraphale. "Neither I nor Crowley have ever considered that what _actually_ happened was as glorious as what was written by scholars and historians out there. In fact, even the best book can also be quite misleading."

"That's because you're reading the wrong book."

The voice cut whatever arguments Aziraphale wished to say. Crowley appeared, bearing a tray of pastries. He put it down, seated himself.

"You _would not_ believe me, angel," Crowley muttered. Aziraphale looked at him quizzically before Crowley sighed. "Not allowed to use my powers to get in line at the bakery is a crime. You know, I have to give my queue to an old granny because she keeps bothering me. That sucks."

Aziraphale immediately brightened when he heard the story. "You're doing good!"

"I _don't_ do good, I just can't stand being pinched by an old lady who apparently thought I'm her idol figure, from her youth." Crowley shuddered, pushing the tray toward Aziraphale.

Aziraphale took a pastry with a radiant smile on his face. Crowley looked away, sipping his black coffee and ignoring the angel's gaiety.

"Croissant, Miss Anathema?"

"Oh, sure, I like it better than the honey-bun." Aziraphale took another two croissants and placed them on Anathema's plate. He also put a croissant for himself and another for Crowley.

He took the basket of sweet bread. "You want sweet breads as well, my dear?"

Crowley gestured with the hand that holding his coffee. Aziraphale nodded and put a piece of honey-bun on the demon's.

"Come," said Aziraphale, invited everyone at the table to begin to enjoy the food. Crowley sipped his coffee. Anathema looked content, with her croissants and tea. Aziraphale smiled. Then his gaze collided with a glasses-stare.

Anathema smiled back.

  
  


**ii.**

Crowley liked kids. _Any_ assumption that stated he hated children because he often dressed weird and creepy was something awfully, _awfully_ stupid. Like it or not, here is the fact: children are the demon's best friends. Literally. Children were very much easy to tempt and they had great potential to be the agents of the devil in spreading evilness. Have you heard, bad thing always starts as small thing? _Embedding the demonic traits in human at an early age_ , that was Crowley's motto.

Just fools like Hastur and Ligur who would think that was just nonsense. No wonder they never got promoted. They had pickles as brains.

"The question is for Mr. Crowley!"

Crowley focused, didn't realise that he apparently did not pay attention for a few seconds. He and Aziraphale were visiting Tadfield, to meet the Them. They had done this bi-weekly agenda since a few months ago. The reason, of course, was to monitor the progress of the Anti-Christ, Adam Young. Although after a few visits, it seemed clear that the concerns over the boy was unnecessary, and he did not seem to potentially cause another Doomsday. However, their visit to Tadfield had become a habit, and habit dies hard.

"Okay, what is it?"

Brian clucking his tongue, unhappy. "You're forgetting my title again, Crowley."

Crowley grimaced. "What is the question, Your Majesty?"

Brian seemed satisfied, then returned to his role as the King and patted Wensleydale (which acted as an advisor to the kingdom) to read out the questions on the board he was holding.

"If the King and the Supreme Knight Aziraphale are in a life and death situation, who should be your priority to be saved?"

"Aziraphale," Crowley replied automatically.

Pepper rolled her eyes. She got the part as the Empress and it was clear she wasn't pleased about it. "I told you, it's a stupid question, you should skip that number." Pepper snatched Wensleydale's board. "See, this question number eleven: _if Pirates invade the kingdom, what are you going to do to save the King? The Robotics Force or Underwater Army Zombies_? It weighs more."

Adam, who acted as a healer (which was also very clear, he was uncomfortable in his costume), added. "We're not going to talk about Knight Crowley who would prefer Knight Supreme Aziraphale to be saved?"

"That is true!" Brian suddenly remembered 'The Great Betrayal'. "Wrong answer, Mr. Crowley! How dare you not save me first!"

Pepper snorted. "You ask your Knight to choose between the King or his husband, that was a tough choice."

Crowley was still busy digesting the word 'husband' when Wensleydale spoke. "We should be hearing Mr. Crowley's husband! O' Supreme Knight Aziraphale, what do you think about this issue?"

Aziraphale who was stroking Adam's dog, named— _well_ , Dog, jerked in surprise. "What issue?"

Brian replied with a tone of dislike, channelling his role as the King, who had been betrayed. "Apparently, your husband, Mr. Crowley, preferring to save _you_ first if we are both stuck in a life and death situation."

Aziraphale was not ready with any explanation, so he seemed to say one thing that came to his mind. "I'll do the same thing."

Crowley looked at him, unable to say anything. " _Really_?"

"Betrayal!"

"True love!"

"It's stupid, I should not be the Empress! Y'all totally _do not_ understand anything about Monarchy system!"

"Woof-woof!"

"Shut up, Dog!"

In the end there was no knight to be executed for treason or anything, because The Them were supposed to be home for lunch. However, the trip back to Soho in Crowley's Bentley had never been this silent and this awkward.

  
  


  
  


**iii.**

Madam Tracy is the third.

They accidentally met while Crowley complained, out of his boredom with Soho and all the bustle of urbanism, so Aziraphale proposed to have a quick trip to visit Madam Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell. Crowley was sceptical about the idea, but after Madam Tracy herself enthusiastically welcomed their plan over the phone, and Aziraphale could never stop chattering happily about the coast and sea, Crowley had no other choice.

Moreover, with whom Aziraphale would go if not with Crowley—who owned the Bentley?

Then this was their first trip, something that was not related to supernatural business, just purely for the purpose of visiting friends.

The trip was not as bad as Crowley imagined. Aziraphale loved to talk about anything: the things that happened in his shop, the life story of his shop visitors, whatever happened along the road they took—there was always something to talk. Crowley would not admit it to anyone, but he might be a little (just a very, very little) manipulating the time, so that they could arrive bit later at their destination.

"Ah, finally!" Madam Tracy trotted, with hugs attack. Aziraphale smiled broadly. Crowley leaned against the door of his Bentley, did not want to get involved.

"You look more beautiful each day, Madam Tracy," Aziraphale said after they embraced each other. "Life in the coast is treating you good."

"Ah you dirty flatterer!" Madame Tracy giggled. "You gotta say that to my grumpy..."

"I heard that!"

Aziraphale poked his head and smiled at Shadwell's figure who always had a sour expression, standing on the terrace with crossed arms.

"Hello, Mr. Shadwell."

Shadwell muttered something under his breath. Crowley snorted. If only he did not know how useless Shadwell was (Crowley did not want to deal with people who he considered not equal, right?), maybe the witch hunter had to pay an awfully lot price for the curse he just passed in his mouth.

Madam Tracy let Aziraphale go, putting a faux annoyed face, galloping toward Crowley. "Your husband, Aziraphale, never knew how to greet a woman properly, huh? Come on, give me a hug, Hon."

Crowley choked. "What—me and Aziraphale—"

However, Madam Tracy was not the type of person who would hear all sorts of excuses to deny her hugs. "You both are just getting more handsome. Can't even decide who is luckier. You or Aziraphale."

Aziraphale flushed. "We aren't like that—"

"Yes, yes, destiny and everything, yeah, right," Madame Tracy cut out with a knowing wink. "Like me and my Shadwell. Nobody is luckier, when we both get lucky."

Shadwell spit, 'Bah!' but her cheeks were on fire, turning back into the cottage hurriedly.

"My Shadwell, charming as ever," Madame Tracy laughed. "Come on, get in! I made you my famous meat casserole. You watch out for foods that you've been feeding your husband with, Aziraphale, he looks so thin. Crowley should taste my home-made casserole. I'll give you the recipe, Aziraphale. Very easy to make and a delicious guaranteed. My Shadwell would look like your husband, if I had not insisted on giving him nutritious food. Of course, all that—" Madam Tracy babbled, leading them to the porch.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged glances. Aziraphale shrugged, following their host. _She wouldn't hear any of our excuses_ , his face seemed to say. This time, Crowley was grateful he was wearing sunglasses, so Aziraphale would not notice how hard it was to hide the emotion that radiated from his eyes—even for a demon like him.

  
  


**iv.**

"I heard from Deirdre, you and your husband quite often have dinner dates at the Ritz. Is it true that the restaurant is worth the price?"

Aziraphale blinked.

That afternoon, he did not expect anyone to break through the bookshop and asked him such an odd question.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, my name is Lucy. I'm Deirdre's sister. I'm just really upset to find out that the restaurant I've been booked for my proposal was not so inclusive of same-sex couples. I forgot I haven't introduced mself." Lucy said all that in one breath. Aziraphale stunned. "Deirdre had advised me to pick The Ritz because of its reputation, but she did not know anything about the restaurant, so she referred you to me. You are Mr. Fell, right?"

Aziraphale shook hands with the woman standing in front of him, amidst her panic. "Yes, I am myself."

"Please, tell me everything about The Ritz. I want Amanda to get the best experience when I later ask her to marry me."

Lucy smiled tiredly. However, fatigue was not comparable to her strong determination. Aziraphale sensed a love so great, radiating from this woman. The angel smiled.

"Come and sit with me, in the back, Miss Lucy. I'll be very happy to help you." Aziraphale tidying up the books he had been about stacking on the shelf. "I'll close the shop."

"Mr. Fell, I can not ask you to do it. What about the customer—"

Aziraphale only gave a small laugh. "Don't worry, Miss Lucy. Just chatting and drinking tea. After all, my bookshop is not as busy as you think."

When Aziraphale was about to turn over the sign hanging on the front door, suddenly Crowley's face popped up on the glass. The angel recoiled.

"Crowley!"

"I'm sorry, angel," he said, unapologetically, just by his satisfied grin alone, for managing to surprise Aziraphale. "I just stopped by to tell you that I totally aced my job as newly independent demon—"

Whatever task Crowley wished to say, was swallowed back, because Aziraphale cut him off.

"Of course, my dear. You can tell me about it later." Aziraphale stared with warning in his eyes, then turned to Lucy with a smile. "I'm having a guest right now, this is Deirdre Young's sister, Miss Lucy."

"Oh, I did not see you there, Miss Lucy. Discussing the books with Aziraphale, eh? You've come to the right person."

Lucy let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh, not this time. I just came to Aziraphale on Deirdre's advice. I hear you quite often have dinner at The Ritz. I plan to propose my girlfriend, Amanda, there."

"Aaaaah, to be young and in love! Let me give you and Miss Amanda early congratulations, Miss Lucy," Crowley clapped, he leaned in conspiracy, as if to tell her a secret. "The Ritz is a perfect choice. I don't usually recommend a restaurant like this, but your sister is right to recommend The Ritz. So far we have not been disappointed."

Aziraphale nodded. "Absolutely. I can confirm it."

"Really?" Lucy brightened. "Did you propose there too?"

"What?"

Lucy frowned, when two voices replied in unison. "Oh, it's very impolite! I'm sorry, I'm too eager to realize how inappropriate the question is—"

Aziraphale replied understandingly. "No, it is not polite. Just took us by surprise." He glanced at Crowley. The demon's face was unreadable. "Unfortunately, we just love to eat dinner there, but we did not propose in that restaurant."

"However, The Ritz is the perfect place for it, Miss Lucy," Crowley suddenly added. "It's been a special place for so many couples who've done it. Your soon-to-be wife—will experience nothing but the best moment of her life, there."

Aziraphale was caught off guard with Crowley's words. He could not restrain himself from smiling.

"That is very true, Miss Lucy. It is very true."

And Aziraphale was not surprised, when he realised that he had just agreeing with the demon wholeheartedly.

  
  


**v.**

Of course, among everything, Heaven would be the one to use the wrong term.

Aziraphale should have predicted this.

"Greetings, Aziraphale," Michael scrunched her nose in distaste, as if it was dirty punishment to send her here—in Aziraphale's bookshop. "Gabriel has some other business to attend, so I replace him."

"Right," said Aziraphale, not even looking at the Archangel. "And what kind of business you handle that involved this visit, Michael?"

Michael frowned, noticing the disinterest in Aziraphale's. "A peace offering."

"Peace—what?"

"We think, that you still very fit to be a part of Heaven and what you did with that abomination, the demon Crowley, is a mistake that can be redeemed. Since there is no news about the rise of Lucifer, it counts as a victory for us. And you have proving yourself as a very, very valuable asset, although slightly misguided. "

"I stopped listening once you said I still very fit to be a part of Heaven, Michael." Aziraphale sipped his tea loudly, Michael shuddered in disgust. "Heaven tried to kill me with the Fire of Hell. It's not something they _can redeem_ with ease."

"The idea was all Gabriel and he acknowledged that he had miscalculated—"

Aziraphale laughed, but there was no humor in it. Only irony. "You want to tell me that he was sorry for his brilliant idea? _That_ Gabriel? Bullshit, Michael." Michael flinched. "It is not that he can't come himself, isn't it? He is afraid to see me, that's why he sent you."

The Archangel flashed her eyes. "Gabriel would never-"

"You know," Aziraphale interrupted and not without reason. "You're not stupid, Michael. I know it."

Michael sneered. "How far have you been brainwashed by your demonic boyfriend, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale found himself intrigued with Michael's words. During this time, almost everyone thought he and Crowley were a married couple. Marriage is something sacred, binding, and indisputable. Boyfriend, lover—it's all temporary. He would never judge human choice on that matter, but, Aziraphale admittedly adore marriage as a sacred bond created as the highest form of love.

" _Boyfriend._ " Aziraphale smiled to himself. "People would assume that Crowley is my husband, but of course you didn't know it, did you?"

Michael laughed scornfully. "What the difference it makes? That you've been so far from Heaven, and now on a par with humans even go far for an abomination like demon?"

"No, no," Aziraphale tapping his fingers. "That means that Heaven never pay attention to what is important to me."

Michael surged forward, fists clenched. "You'd rather choose a low demon, over your own people?"

"I choose a _friend_ , Michael," Aziraphale's sharp tone was impossible to miss. "My own people never quite appreciate me for who I really am."

"Only because God Herself chose you to be the Guardian of the Garden of Eden, it doesn't mean you're above us, Aziraphale!"

"Keywords: God Herself."

A voice chimed in. Crowley was standing at the entrance of A.Z. Fell and Co., his yellowish snake eyes flashed. Instinctively, Michael retreated.

"God Herself didn't choose you, eh Michael? What, are you telling me that you're _actually_ not as high as you think?" Crowley stepped forward.

"Back off, you devil!"

Crowley did not budge with the Archangel's empty threats. "Do what you suggest yourself, Michael. Because no Hellfire nor Holy Water can make us do something that we do not approve."

Aziraphale blinked and next he knew, Michael was nowhere to be found.

**vi.**

"I can't believe she didn't smell my arrival. Michael is more arrogant than I last remember," said Crowley, taking a sip of wine.

"Worse and worse and worse, instead," Aziraphale murmured.

"I can see that."

For whatever reason, they were both laughing.

"You know, I'm surprised to hear you correcting yourself about me being your boyfriend." Crowley giggled, letting himself be controlled by the courage of alcohol. "Everyone thought we were both already married, but of course, only the angels would assume the wrong."

Aziraphale laughed until he burped loudly "I bet, the demon would make the same mistakes, too. Or even worse."

Crowley did not think it was funny. "I'm going to kill them if they dare to call you something lower."

Something happened.

Right at that moment.

"I'm going to sober up," said Aziraphale quietly. Crowley sipped his glass again, but nodded in agreement.

Before long, two bottles of wine were back in full.

"Blergh," The demon sticking out his tongue. "I need a long nap after this."

"Crowley."

Crowley looked up. "Yes?"

"Does that bother you?"

The demon was not stupid enough to not know what the angel had actually asked.

"No, not at all. Never," Crowley replied firmly. "You're bothered?"

Aziraphale chuckled. "Well, frankly, yes—I mean, you're supposed to be married to have a husband, right?"

Crowley expression changed. His voice sounded strange, weird. "Of course."

"I assume, you're just waiting for the right moment after Greece, but then you never take _any_ step—"

Aziraphale flushed. Crowley blinked his snake eyes, not understand. "Greece—what?"

"Greece, my dear," said Aziraphale, impatient. "You were throwing an apple and grinned at me, saying that you believe Adam and Eve must have been responsible for the tradition of proposing with apple. You proposed me, but you didn't even think about making my dream wedding come true, and after decades and hundreds of years gone by, I started losing faith. A little disrespectful, if you ask me. "

"I—" It was an absolute miracle, Crowley's still managed to make a connection when he almost had a heart attack on what Aziraphale had explicitly stated. "You think, I propose?"

Aziraphale gasped in shock. "You didn't—?"

"WAIT A MINUTE."

Crowley stood, panting as if he had trouble breathing. In a way, he was. He did not know that the demon could hyperventilate. Greece was blurred in his memory. He wasn't paying attention much at that period. He was still mourning the sinking of Atlantis and Greece was his escape. Of course in his journey, he met Aziraphale. And apparently, it was precisely in the period Crowley couldn't recall, Aziraphale thought he was already spoken for. By Crowley himself. With an apple.

Somewhere, God was laughing in triumph, proud of Herself for a cosmic joke that She created.

"HOLY SHIT."

Aziraphale chided him. "Watch your language."

"Fuck, Aziraphale." Crowley could not stop smiling. Aziraphale looked at him with a disapproving look, more because of the curse words.

"Let's go!"

The angel did not get to draw out his hand, as the demon snatching him in the blink of an eye. "Go where?"

Crowley's smile could not have been wider. "Let's get married!"

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


**GOD:**

**And they forget that _my name_ should not be pronounced in certain moments. Yet, who can blame them if they don't remember anything but each other in ** _**that** _ **situation?**

  
  


  
  


**• fin •**

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Eli for organizing the event, I'm having so much fun writing this. I'm so sorry for my giftee, BrknDeathAngel, I may not fullfil your expectations but i hope you enjoy this story. I'm writing this with you in mind, Merry Christmas from me 💙🎄🎅
> 
> And to you who read this as well, thank you for giving this story a chance. Kudos and comments would be a literal gift for my Christmas, happy holiday everyone! Cheers! 🎉


End file.
